Having one hand
I was born with half my left forearm.
I was very fortunate — my folks explicitly ignored it. (Looking back as an adult, knowing time and place, that was not easy at the start.) My grandmother never really did get over it. My grandparents were working class, and the assumption was one had to have all limbs in order to get a job.
I was never treated as “different” by my parents. They did let me choose when to have a prosthetic hook. One of my earliest memories was when I was five, and spending the summer with my grandparents (and my young brother) because my mother was recovering from back surgery. I had already spent the first 2.5 years of my life around my grandparents. My folks lived in a trailer next to their house while they were going to college. I would spend the mornings with them. They were wonderful folks.
My grandparents owned an acre in what started out as a rural area north of Amarillo, TX. My grandfather built a number of houses on the property as rentals. They had one tenant for several decades.
So I’m five, and my grandfather is building a rent house. I wanted to help, so he showed me here he wanted nails in the floor. To start the nail, I used my prosthetic as a hammer to start the nail. My grandfather kind of freaked, because the prosthetic was not built for such uses.
Long story short, we moved to Phoenix when my dad got a job at GE Computer Systems. I was 2.5 years old. At some point, I wanted to shoot a bow and arrow. My dad made a method where a plate with “keyholes” screwed into the prosthetic instead of a hook, and a plate with screws on the bow that fit the keyholes on the plate. This allowed me good control on the bow. Basically, it locked the bow onto my arm. I got pretty good with it.
I was in first grade. I wanted to try the monkey bars, so I grabbed with my hand, swung, and hooked on the next rung, and swung . Net effect, I slipped a bit out of the prosthetic and dangled until an attendant could lift me off.
The last time I wore a prosthetic was in 5th grade. We had just moved to San Jose, CA, and I had left my childhood friends behind, so I was socially awkward. I though the issue was having one hand, so I asked for a prosthetic. My father got a call one day. I had been in a fight. My dad asked who started the fight — it was the other kid. He then asked why they were calling him. They told him I had hit the other kid with my prosthetic. His response? “What did you expect him to use?” I learned about this many years later, after he had died. I wish that I knew about it so I could ask him about it. But that was the last time I used one. I realized I could really do a damage.
My parents bought a ranch house on an acre in what turned out to be an upscale area. My dad never met a child labor law he paid attention to. When I was in high school, we doubled the size of the house — guess who got to do the grunt work… I learned how to frame, plumb, and wire a house. One of my hobbies is building houses. I have been on a number of mission trips to Mexico to build houses. I was part of a Habitat for Humanity crew. I build a lot of things out of wood. I am currently helping my brother rebuild his bathrooms. My mother planted a large garden every year and we had to help.
After I graduated High School, my dad bought a 59 VW Bug for $100 (the cost of the new tires) and we rebuilt the engine and interior. I do most of the maintenance on my vehicles. I also was a handyman at a summer camp.
I have done a number of sports. I played football in High School. I was first string defensive guard. We played against one team when I had a funny thing happen. An offensive guard is supposed to block by putting his fists together and his forearms basically in-line. Well, the kid punched my on the first play. He punched me on the second play. I took my stub and punched him in the face through his facemask. He started yelling for the ref. The ref just looked at both of us and ignored it. I could tell the ref was thinking “15 yard penalty for stubbing? Not even a rule. Can’t get the guy with the stub for hands.” The kid stopped punching me. We won the game.
I rock climbed. 5.7 lead, 5.8 follow. I have water and snow skied. Done martial arts. Biked to work and back. Bowled (a sport where I actually have a handicap). Hiked in Yosemite. Hunted with my dad.
I am a programmer (specifically an Embedded Systems Engineer on mission critical systems like medical devices and avionics). I am a C expert with over a million lines of code (been at it for a while). I had to teach myself to type, because I could never make it past page 2 of any typing manual. I use my stub for the keys on the left (tab, shift, ctrl, alt) and my fingers for everything else. I do 40 to 50 words per minute. I also design and build electronics, both for professional prototype systems and just for fun. (I taught my son to solder at age 2. By the time he was 4, he was about as good as me, and at 6 he was better than me. We also built a bunch of stuff together, like costumes, remote control cars into remote control boats, and other cool projects.)
The people I live with just forget I only have one hand, or they start using some of my techniques. I also have a (sic) second-hand shop, filled with (sic) off-handed puns. Attitude is the key. If you think you are crippled, you will be. If you have the attitude of having a hobby that most do not, you will be fine.
What made it possible for me to do the things I do was my parents allowed me to figure out how to do everything. I know sometimes it was not easy for them. My mother told me the story where I was about 3 or 4. We were in Phoenix. There were several families with kids the same ages, so we formed a pack. I had a trike. I fell off it and got a scrape. I was a little kid, so I was upset. My mother just watched me. A neighbor mother said “Why are you not helping him?” My mother replied “I am!”
Something struck me when our mother was dying. She was fading fast, so we all made a point to touch her. I was touching her with my stub. She started rubbing it with her hand in such a way I instantly realized that was what she did when I was a baby. Something I will always remember.
The really short version: Because my parents explicitly ignored my lack of a hand, and demanded the same from me as my brother, they allowed me to figure out the things I needed as an adult. They helped me create a positive attitude that I have today, and be successful as an adult. I love having one hand. My name is “bandit”, as in the “one-armed bandit”. Coincidentally, my dad was Smokey, and my brother is Bear (or Oso to his peruvian-born wife). I love off-handed puns. They help others feel comfortable about me because I do not hide from the fact I have one hand. Humor is disarming (snicker).
There are two things at are a bit if a pain with one hand. The first is trying to buy one glove. I would happily buy a pair — both right hands. The other is hammer and punch or hammer and chisel, not hammer and nails. I have forgotten how many hundreds of pounds of nails I have pounded into things. I came up with a “fuzzy stump”. I have placed it in the public domain. You are free to charge for materials (roughly $25), but not time. There is also a bit more of my story. Also a bunch of pictures. https://www.instructables.com/Fuzzy-Stump-Socket-Prosthetic/
So, if you have a child without a hand or leg, do not feel like God is punishing you. My parents taught me God gives challenges to those who can handle them. You did nothing “wrong”. He is giving both you and the child a gift. Embrace it. You will lean so much from it. Remember: Attitude is critical. Your attitude will set the attitude for the child and those around you.
There is a current trend of “Limb Differences” by some parents of kids without all fingers and toes. I am of two minds about it. On the one hand (if I can use the term :^), it seems parents are trying to have the right attitude. On the other hand (if I can use the term), it seems parents are feeling like it’s their fault, or they are not comfortable having a child without all limbs. Please think very carefully about the attitude you display to your child. Personally, I am also against the “do good” groups that are 3D printing “hands” — they mean well, but I highly suspect a large part is fear of loss of a limb. I am very concerned this path leads to kids who will have the “I’m handicapped” attitude. Remember, if you think you are handicapped, then you will be. If you think your child is handicapped, they will be.